


Give it a Spin

by Ephemera_pop (Alex_Draven)



Category: Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ballroom Dancing, M/M, Secret Santa, UK AU, mtyg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Draven/pseuds/Ephemera_pop
Summary: Written for ullman, for Make the Yuletide Gay, 2011





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ullman, for Make the Yuletide Gay, 2011

"I'm Chris." Kevin looked up from his laptop at the short, stocky guy who was leaning on the reception desk.

"Welcome to Richardson Ballroom: how may I help you today?" Kevin figured it never hurt to lay on the charm, even if it was a little cheesy. That's what people expected from a ballroom dance studio, after all.

"I'm here on a bet." Chris had his arms crossed across his chest and was glaring at Kevin like he was looking for a reaction.

"Somebody bet you you couldn't learn to dance?" Kevin gave a small, professional, smile. "I'm sure we can can help you win that bet. I believe everyone can dance."

"Dude, what? I can dance, and I'm sure you can teach me the basics of ballroom. I just need you to give me some kind of receipt so I can prove to my friends that I actually followed through and booked the lessons."

That – wasn't what Kevin expected. "They bet you wouldn't follow through?"

"For some reason Lance thinks I'm a hopeless flake, because he's a perfectionist control freak who's never learned to let go, relax and go with the flow, and my oldest friend has somehow picked him to be best man for his wedding instead of me."

Kevin was coming to suspect that this guy's grumpy demeanour wasn't about being in a ballroom dancing studio after all. Still, it wasn't like he was going to object to a new client, especially one who was slightly less predictable than most – wedding couples and competition hopefuls were fine, but it did get a bit same-y sometimes.

"Well, you're here. I can testify to that. Maybe you'd like to take a seat, we can talk about what you want to get out of your lessons here, and we'll go from there? Can I offer you a coffee, water?"

Kevin picked up the folder of new client forms and stood to shepherded his new client towards the chairs in the corner of the room. The small entrance-space served as reception, office, and waiting room, with Kevin's desk at one end, and a corner-set of sectional sofas and a coffee table clustered at the other. The table held a stand of leaflets – the studio's class timetable, flyers for tea dances, and postcards advertising competitions and themed cruises.

"Do you have a Pepsi or something?"

"You're in luck. The gym has a policy about only selling water and nutritionally balanced health and sports drinks." Kevin quirked his lip, having a feeling that his new client might share his own opinion on that policy. "But I have a personal supply. I don't know anyone who runs their own business who doesn't have a caffeine habit."

"Amen to that!" Chris's smile was framed in a scruffy goatee, and revealed uneven teeth, but the rapid transition from grumpy to glee was endearing. "You own this place?"

"Kevin Richardson, owner, manager, 1997 State Champion, and chief instructor, at your service."

Kevin held out a hand,and Chris shook it, but instead of giving his own full name, he continued Kevin's titles. "Caffeine dealer and part time receptionist – a man of many parts."

"I have many talents," Kevin said, straight faced, and then kicked himself, because he knew better than to flirt with clients, especially guys who hit all his short, dark, and feisty buttons but were probably straight.

He took the opportunity to duck down behind his desk to open up the cooler and pull out two Pepsi's. They weren't exactly frosty, this point in the afternoon, but drink-ably cool, and better than an overpriced guava-acai-guarana--superberry-sundae, which was the only gym-approved drink that made any pretence at being a pick-me-up.

He passed a can to Chris, who took it with another flash of that easy smile.

"Thanks. But do your talents include teaching me to dance backwards, so Lance can dance lead and JC and Robbie won't be the only male couple on the dance floor for the slow songs?"

OK, but maybe gay but with a boyfriend, also not fair game, also client, Kevin reminded himself.

"When's the wedding? And what kind of dancing?"

"Civil union," Chris corrected, and then hesitated for a second, presumably in case Kevin was going to start shooting steam out of his ears, "in October."

"Two months - we can work with two months." Kevin popped the tab on his soda and took a sip. "I got my ex-boyfriend up to snuff for a hunt ball in less.. Of course, he wasn't paying by the hour."

Chris smiled into his soda, and gave Kevin a brief appraising up-and-down look. "I'm sure he wasn't."

Kevin almost choked on his drink, and snapped at himself internally "Client!", because that was the only thing left on the list of reasons not to even think about Chris like that. Jesus. He was how old now, and still reacting like a teenager? He swallowed, and tried to get the conversation back on track.

"Although it would be really useful to know what dance style you're aiming at. I can teach the basics in all of them, but there's no point working on your chacha if you need to take part in a waltz." Kevin tried really hard to keep his smile all professional courtesy and nothing more.

Chris frowned, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Crap. I know Lance told me, and all I can remember is that I couldn't believe Robbie was letting JC get away that sappy a song, but not what the song was. Crap. I'm sorry? I can call Lance..." Chris looked over Kevin's shoulder at the clock on the wall above him ..."except he'll still be at work."

"It's ok – not to worry. We can work out a basic plan now, and just find out before we have our first private class, yeah?"

"That would be good. And still counts as winning that bet, right?"

Kevin shrugged amiably, and tried not to react to Chris' conspiratorial grin.

"So, are you the only member of the wedding party that needs dance classes?"

"The only one this side of Reading. The grooms and Lance are going to some studio up in Slough, but there's no way I can get off work, drive 40 minutes home to let the dogs out, then head back two hours each way to go to a dance class three times a week, you know?"

"You have dogs?" Kevin replied before he really processed the rest of Chris' – more professionally relevant – answer. "Hang on – that wouldn't be N / A Dance School would it?"

"Maybe? I don't remember the name, just that it's all the way out on the wrong side of town for me, and Lance knew one of the instructors – Nikoli or something? - and we all figured it would be a pretty, you know, gay friendly business. "

Kevin chuckled. "Oh, yeah, that's Nick and AJ ok – they're friends of mine. In fact, I trained both of them. I was one of Nick's first teachers, back before he was picking up prize money in under-fourteen contests. Saw him right through to the nationals."

"No shit!"

"Synchronicity," Kevin nodded, sagaciously. "Also, I think we're the only two studios in the area that have same-sex open classes. I was holding them before they opened their place, but there's plenty of custom to go around. In fact, that's where I'd recommend you start."

Chris looked at him, quizzically. "You do an open same-sex dance class?"

"Yup. They're pretty popular – we do a beginners class on Wednesdays, and two mixed ability open dances on Thursday and Saturdays. Intermediate and Advanced are Mondays, but -"

"I don't need to worry about that yet, right?" Chris finished for him.

"I wouldn't start you there, no."

"But you would start me in a group class? I thought you did private classes?"

"I do, but, honestly? I think you'll find the timing easier, and starting with private classes isn't the best value for money. You'll learn just as much in the beginners group the first couple of weeks, get a little time on the dancefloor under your shoes, get a feel for the dance with different partners and different roles. We can move on to private classes when you – and I – have a better idea of what you need to work on. I mean," Kevin caught himself as Chris raised one eyebrow. "If you would prefer individual tuition, I'm sure we can find a time that might work for both of us, but my availability is limited, and my professional recommendation would be starting with the group classes."

"No wonder you have a caffeine habit, if you start by talking all your customers out of buying your premium product."

Kevin smiled back, wryly. "You're assuming that our group classes aren't first rate."

"That's not what I said! I just," Chris deflated. "I was all geared up for sneaking in and out of hetro-land, and now you tell me that there are group classes – plural – where I can swan around all evening with dozens of same-sex partners. Seriously?"

Kevin nodded, bemused.

"I'm going to kill Lance." Chris pronounced with finality.

Kevin's confusion must have been evident, because Chris explained. "He made such a huge deal out of finding a gay-friendly studio for the wedding party, I had no idea . And then with the betting I was going to wuss out – dude, I half figured I was going to get bashed in your parking lot! He is going to be insufferably smug when I tell him I'm signed up for classes..."

"And will your … will Lance be coming with you to classes?" Kevin asked, trying to guide the conversation back towards ballroom dancing.

"Friend – not boyfriend. I'm not his type."

"More fool him," Kevin replied before he could vet the words.

"That's what I tell him," Chris shrugged easily. "But, yes. No. Just me. Lance is taking classes over at Nick's place, and I can't see him driving all the way over here for more. Well, unless he decides it's his new thing. He was driving all the way to Wales for water-skiing for a while. That's not going to be a problem, is it? Me coming on my own?"

"Not a problem at all," Kevin assured him, while internally he screamed 'client!' at himself, because clearly this Lance guy was an idiot, and the way Chris was pinching his lower lip really wasn't helping, because all Kevin could imagine was how that red chapped lip might feel if it was kissed. "I encourage people, especially people learning social dance, to swap partners through the class – it really is the best way of learning."

Chris nodded to himself, and rubbed his hands on his jean-clad thighs. "OK, so you sold me on the group class. What do I need to do?"

"Well, beginners is tomorrow at 6.30. Drop in classes are £10, cash, paid on the night, and we do a loyalty card, so you get a class free after you come for five. We work through the basics of most of the ballroom forms, but we put the contents of each class up for popular vote, so I can't promise which form we'll start you off with, just that you'll have fun learning it. Oh, and if you don't have dance shoes, socks are fine for beginners. No street shoes in the studio, though."

"That's it?"

"Pretty much – I try and keep things nice and simple. Would you like to sign up for your loyalty card now, so that's one less thing to do tomorrow?" Kevin pulled an application form. "There's just a few basic medical questions, just to check that we're not going to do you an injury encouraging you to dance, and then basic contact details. Here." He slid the form across the low coffee table between their seats, then pulled a pen out of the edge of the binder.

Chris hunched forward, scanning the form, and Kevin forced himself to sit back in his chair, fold his hands in his lap, and not try and read Chris' phone number upside down,

A few quick scribbles later, Chris slid the form back at him. "Here you go. I don't think I'll break, unless there's something about ballroom dancing no-ones told me."

"I try not to break dancers; this isn't a break-dance kind of place." Chris rolled his eyes at the pun, and returned Kevin's smile. Kevin scanned the form – he'd have guessed Chris was a few years younger than the 37 he'd filled in, and none of the medical questions raised any impossible red flags, although .... "Knee surgery – your physio give you any limitations I ought to know about?"

Chris shook his head "I think it's ok, unless you're going to have us doing jumping jacks. I'll let you know if I get a twinge, but she'd probably be over the moon to hear I was going to get off my arse and do something a bit like exercise!"

"Fair enough," Kevin said, "I trust you to listen to your body, and say something if anything we do is causing you any discomfort. Everything else looks fine - I'll get your card printed up and ready for you to use for tomorrow, and if you want to find out from your friends what the plan is for their big day's dance style, I'll suggest we start with that if the rest of the folks who show up are amenable."

"Cool," Chris stood up,and Kevin followed his lead. They hesitated, and then Chris stuck his hand out for a handshake. "So, see you tomorrow?"

Chris's hand was smaller than his, but his grip was firm and solid. "Looking forward to it." Kevin meant that entirely literally.

Chris picked up his coke, and shouldered his way out of the double doors of the studio. Kevin sank back in his chair, and watched him go. In his opinion, lack of exercise wasn't causing that arse any problems.

Mr Chris Kirkpatrick, 37 – what a fine, fine, bundle of trouble he was going to be if Kevin couldn't get a grip on his professional ethics. Don't hit on the clients. Seriously. How many times had he given AJ that lecture, before AJ had graduated from star pupil to assistant?

*** fin ***


End file.
